


The Two Kestrels

by Koe



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Ending, Deviates From Canon, Duelling, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Heavy Drinking, Heroes & Heroines, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Jealousy, Kissing, Light-Hearted, Magic, Multi, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Near Death Experiences, Polyamory, Relationship Issues, Relationship(s), Romance, Romantic Travel Destinations, Sadly Unbetaed, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Supernatural Elements, Swords & Sorcery, Teleportation, Threesome - F/M/M, rarepairs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29810649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koe/pseuds/Koe
Summary: '...might've had a little bit of a drink last night. Me and my… friend here.''I didn’t know alcohol worked on you to this degree, Geralt? Must have been quite a party, looking at your black eye and split lip.''There were extenuating circumstances, Dandelion. Also, that pile over there is the dignified and courtly Walenty, called Istredd, certified sorcerer and demonstrably accomplished wine mixer.''Aha. Happy to meet you, Mage!'The stubbled, crumpled heap gave a feeble wobble in Dandelion’s direction.
Relationships: Geralt of Rivia/Istredd (The Witcher)/Yennefer of Vengerberg
Kudos: 7





	The Two Kestrels

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn’t deal with the unnecessarily sad ending to the “A Shard of Ice” story in “Sword of Destiny”: the second book in the Witcher series by Andrzej Sapkowski (many kudos to him!). 
> 
> Now you don't have to either.

_The kestrel cried._

_The Witcher stood motionless, his arms hanging at his sides._

_‘What are you waiting for?’ the sorcerer barked._

  


\- - -

  


Geralt raised his head to look at the sorcerer.

‘I don’t hate you.’ The Witcher’s voice was gruff. ‘I won’t fight you, sorcerer. Yes, we should feel foolish indeed, because our deaths won’t impress the reason for whom we’re both here. Our battle is already lost. Whether you or I exist is of little consequence to her anymore.’

The sorcerer cried angrily, raised his sword with a mighty two-handed swing, and ran directly at the Witcher. Geralt effortlessly dodged the attack. The sorcerer immediately turned and charged again and the Witcher dodged as before. The attacker came around a third time, still roaring; his self-control completely lost by now and as the Witcher carelessly knocked his sword away, Istredd threw caution and guard to the wind and hammered both gloved fists into the Witcher’s face. The Witcher didn’t duck or even flinch; there was just a nasty smile blooming on his face, diverting the blood spurting from an opened lip.

‘You still have the option of ball lightning, wizard!’

The sorcerer screamed crestfallen at the heavens, fate, and the whole damned world, before stumbling to his knees in front of Geralt. ‘You have humiliated me, Witcher!’

‘We’re shaming ourselves well enough here, the both of us.’

The kestrel flying over their heads gave a laughing crow.

‘For fuck’s sake…’ The sorcerer grimaced.

The Witcher removed his metal-studded glove and held out a hand. After looking at it for a second like it was a scorpion instead of Geralt’s calloused fingers, the sorcerer sighed and took the offer, heaving himself off the ground.

‘So much for that plan. I’m wondering what to say to my servants now, to whom I left my will before stomping off.’

‘I'm going to drink myself blind in the next tavern I find, outside of this cruel town. I just have a letter to pick up before I go.’

‘If you allow, I can give you a hand back and teleport you to where you want to go.’

‘And then I’ll be thoroughly out of your hair.’

'Oh, you won’t be that easily forgotten, Witcher. Come on. I’ll follow you back to The Sturgeon.’

  


\- - -

  


The letter was just as short and unforgiving as the Witcher knew it would be. He read it once and then lit it up, the ashes flying up and out the open window. Then he turned his back to the coldness of the bed and the dusty, empty table. The only thing left behind was the lingering fragrance of lilac and gooseberry, mingling with the bitter air of burnt promises.

  


\- - -

  


The sorcerer was waiting patiently for the Witcher to return outside, as Geralt knew he would. Istredd also didn’t ask any unwelcome questions, reading the whole story easily from the Witcher’s grim face. The sorcerer just started to walk and the Witcher followed behind. They ended up by the door to the sorcerer's towering townhouse.

'I’ll make you a portal inside, to not upset the townsfolk. They appreciate my help, but actually seeing me perform sorcery makes them uncomfortable.'

'It annoys them I suppose, to see wizards perform who regard themselves as elite craftsmen, yet does not stoop to honest enterprise like soldiering, wenching, or drinking.”

‘Touché.’ Istredd acknowledged dryly, unlocking the heavy doors.

‘Let’s send me as far away as you can possibly get me, then. Should I potion up?'

'Don’t worry, I’m not setting you a trap. If I wanted to win by magic, I’d have found a way less rough on what little remains of my dignity.’

Inside the villa’s spacious atrium, the sorcerer asked the Witcher to wait. He soon returned, now without the sword and scabbard by his hip, but with a traveling bag in hand. He also held out a bulging wineskin, offering it to Geralt.

'I guess your solution is as good as any.'

The Witcher took a mighty swig. It was potent stuff, spiked with spices and probably extra stimulants. Istredd took it out of the Witcher’s hands and drew a lengthy draft himself.

'So, where to?'

'How about as far from Vengerberg as you can make it?'

'As you command.'

The sorcerer, drawing raw force to him with wide, sweeping motions, making Geralt’s medallion jerk and pull, opened a rift in thin air. The rippling teleportal widened into a view of a green hill overlooking a bleached and wind-swept fisherman’s village. Salty sea breeze wafted towards them and seagulls could be heard from afar. 

The Witcher stepped wearily over the threshold. He turned to see the sorcerer following right behind, the rift immediately closing behind his heels as if it were never there. He stared at Istredd who read the question in his eyes.

'It is hard to keep up one-sided hate. I also feel like postponing the moment when I have to show my face near the Green Key well again.' Istredd said with a grimace. He took another deep swig from the wineskin, offered it up and Geralt nearly drained what was left.

'Let us find a tavern and quickly.'

Two black kestrels soared high overhead, making the gulls cry shrill warnings at each other.

  


\- - -

  


The Witcher was drenched in sweat and the sun shone aggressively into his face as he woke by someone rustling the bedsheets very close to his ear.

'...Yen?'

'Uhh, ‘fraid not…'

The person next to him rolled out and onto the floor with a thud and an ‘Ooofh,’ crawled to the open window, stuck their head out, and vomited very loudly and repeatedly in between gasping and swearing weakly.

'Make room…' Geralt pushed into the sill besides Istredd and heaved in tandem, emptying his stomach over and over again. 

When the sorcerer finally managed to wriggle loose from the tight spot, he collapsed inside again making an undignified heap on the floor and stayed down. 

As Geralt’s stomach cramps slowly subsided, he lifted his bleary eyes to look at the bunch of kids pointing and staring wide-eyed at him from across the stone-paved road outside the tavern, all of them positioned as far back as they could, endeavoring to avoid splatter.

From afar someone announced themselves by whistling a cheery tune. They came around the inn’s corner, traipsing merrily, showing off a too bright yellow lace-and-velvet jerkin and matching feather-studded bonnet. From a strap slung over their shoulder danced a fancy lute. The person suddenly did an abrupt double-take, face forming a surprised O when he got eyes on Geralt dangling over of the windowsill. 

‘Why, Geralt!'

‘Aye, Dandelion...” Geralt collapsed inside, drawn by the earth's great gravity, giving a single wave of acknowledgment as he went.

  


\- - -

  


Some unknown time later, the Witcher was looking up at Dandelion’s worried face as the bard shook him lightly.

'Are you sick, Geralt? What’s the matter? And what are you doing here in Glon Whesh?'

'...might've had a little bit of a drink last night. Me and my… friend here.'

'I didn’t know alcohol worked on you to this degree, Geralt? Must have been quite a party, looking at your black eye and split lip.'

'There were extenuating circumstances, Dandelion. Also, that pile over there is the dignified and courtly Walenty, called Istredd, certified sorcerer and demonstrably accomplished wine mixer.'

'Aha. Happy to meet you, Mage!' 

The stubbled, crumpled heap gave a feeble wobble in Dandelion’s direction.

'Could you find us something to drink, Dandelion? Preferably something non-alcoholic.'

  


\- - -

  


A lot later they were seated by an outdoor table by the tavern. Having had a good clean-up and some unnamed remedies from the sorcerer’s bag, the Witcher felt much better. Not well enough to want any food, but he was happy to watch Dandelion eat, at least. Istredd had excused himself to take a ‘bout around town, saying he would stop by to say goodbye later.

'... and now Roach is in Aedd Gynvael and I am here. I wish I didn’t have to go back to fetch her, but that’s the price to pay for losing one’s head completely I suppose.' Geralt eyed his friend. 'You don’t suppose…'

'I’m not going between you and any wizard! Not if you paid me!'

'Istredd has had ample chance to get rid of me in any number of nasty ways and hasn’t so far. He’s actually irritatingly upstanding and fair for a man I don't like out of principle.'

As they sat there, Geralt staring gloomily out at sea and Dandelion speculating on a song about a star-crossed love triangle, Istredd came back looking somewhat alarmed.

'I’m glad to find you’re still here, Witcher. I’ve just seen Itza Smythkora, the local sorceress, and she tells me they have a serious situation with people both living and dead going missing here. There might be a need for your professional Witcher skills and there will be payment too, I’m sure. If you take it on I’ll personally make sure you’re not swindled this time.'

  


\- - -

  


In the end, it turned out the sorceress Smythkora herself had started a war with a sea-faring shaman, called Rodoro Silvermar, over some incomprehensible mage politics. The two sorcerers both used black arts to summon the undead: the enchantress commanding the land-buried dead against the shaman’s sea-drowned hordes. In between them, the villagers were caught up for just getting in the way. There were no monsters in the traditional sense for Geralt to kill, just two ruthless magicians and their temporarily animated corpses and ghosts.

Happily, Geralt had an easy success convincing the relatively reasonable shaman to end the conflict. Silvermar was near to winning anyway, as the sorceress had mostly emptied the village’s graveyards, while the shaman still had eons of drowned fishermen to draw from.

Istredd, who was trying to convince the irate sorceress to do the same, wasn’t having nearly as good a time with it. Smythkora used the last of her undead to attack him, while she herself fled the village. Istredd, taken by surprise by his former sorceress friend, was nearly overwhelmed by the enchanted horde, and while Geralt came to the rescue before the sorcerer actually perished, Istredd still ended up with rows of nasty bites. As Geralt carried him from the sorceress’ smoking villa, strewn by reeking tufts of seaweed, coffin boards, and bloated, hacked-up body parts, Istredd fell into a stupor.

  


\- - -

  


Back at the tavern, Geralt put the unconscious sorcerer to bed and tried his hardest to heal him, but it didn’t take. Glon Whesh’s only live-in healer had been the sorceress Smythkora. The shaman Silvermar had already fulfilled his promise to stay away and calling him back was out of the question.

'How is he faring?' Dandelion asked quietly.

'Not good, I'm afraid. I think he’s slipping away and his wounds have started to smell bad. I’ve tried with what potions I had with me, and I won't try his stuff as his bottles and hex bags aren't marked in any way I can read. I don’t dare smell or taste them to find out, either. It is entirely possible that one or more contain deadly poison. How well do you know this region, Dandelion? Do you know of any more healers near here?'

'Not well, I’m sorry, no.'

'Damnit. Can you please watch over him while I go out for a beat?'

'Of course. Take your time, friend.'

  


\- - -

  


Yennefer didn’t waste any time as she teleported straight to their room. After poking and sniffing at the sorcerer some, she ordered hot wine from the tavern keeper, mixed in some murky brew she had in a pouch, and poured the sluggish concoction down the sorcerer’s throat. His breath immediately became less labored and some of the bluish tinge started leaving his temples.

'Having the kestrels keeping an eye out was clever, Yen. Thanks for listening to my plea and coming swiftly.'

'I almost didn’t. The only reason I opened my ear to you at all was that I had to know why you two took close to a week to kill each other. I’ve never known you for someone dawdling to perform, Geralt'

'I’ll go fetch us some food and drink I think, and be back much later.' Dandelion excused himself and hurried out the door.

'The prize had been removed from the competition and the reason to act thus voided.'

‘And now you two hang out, why? As mourning brothers in arms?'

'If you like. He and I do have scars in common and we were both a bit numb I suppose, from exposure to arctic conditions. But why we’re still here is merely by chance, really. Istredd is a mostly decent sorcerer as it turns out, besides an upstanding fellow. I couldn’t just let him die.'

'Lo-and-behold. I thought you didn’t like him.'

Geralt’s tight grimace smoothed out.

Yennefer looked at him sideways. 'You do complement one another, you know.'

Geralt cleared his throat. 'There’s also another thing… I was meaning to ask him to fetch Roach for me. She’s still back at Aedd Gynvael and I’m afraid the Innkeeper at The Sturgeon will sell her if my bill there isn’t settled soon.'

Yennefer rolled her eyes but got up to help him. Again.

  


\- - -

  


'Geralt,' the sorcerer wheezed.

'Yes, Istredd. I’m right here beside you.’

'I’ll probably be dead soon. I think I’m hearing Yenna’s voice and it’s not scolding me. I just want to tell you I’m glad that it was you who bested me, Geralt. It makes it bearable that she changed me out for someone intelligent and honorable. Had you been a lesser man, I couldn’t have lived with myself after that damned attempt at a duel. And I'm deeply sorry for what I said to you before. You are no automaton by far and I have come to respect you as both a profoundly decent and a compassionate man.'

'Calm down, you are not dying yet, Istredd. In fact, you’re rapidly getting better. An hour ago you weren’t able to utter a single word and now you’re rambling away. And thank you for your kind words, but that was actually Yen’s voice you heard. She’ll be back to scold you soon. It was she who saved you today, not me.'

'Yenna’s back? Truly?' Istredd croaked, tears forming in the crinkles of his eyes.

'I called for her, through the kestrels, to come to save you.'

'And she did? She really did? I’d rather think she’d give me a boot to the arse.'

'I'm sure she’ll come around to that eventually.'

  


\- - -

  


'Do you like it?' 

Yennefer sounded smug, turning towards the both of them, her indigo eyes flashing. Behind and below her an unbelievably beautiful scene unfolded: a serene, sun-lit bay of glittering turquoise water lapping over pinkish sand, surrounded by bright-green meadows and fruit-bearing palm trees waving lazily in the soothing breeze.

'Itza and I go way back, all the way to Aretuza. Her villa in Glon Wesh is ruined now, but since she has fled this region for good I think, and left her beautiful bungalow here on the Atraesau island behind, it suits me to borrow it for a while. She certainly has a debt to pay, especially to you, Istredd. And I’m certainly not sharing that seedy tavern bed with the two of you.' She underlined her statement with a pointed look.

'I took the liberty of paying both your bills and bringing your luggage over from Glon. Dandelion sends his regards, he says he’ll stay around for a while, playing the summer coast festivals. 

Also, I let Roach out to graze on the meadow behind the bungalow here. If you think she’ll attempt to swim to the mainland, I suggest you go fetch her soon, Geralt.'

'Thank you.' The Witcher eyed Yennefer with a stony expression, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

'And you, Istredd? How are you feeling today?'

'Like a new man and well-rested for it. And hungry.' Istredd watched her intently too, his smile a little resigned.

'Let’s have a grand feast to fill you up then. But first I’m taking a bath in the sea. If you look down there,' she pointed. 'Those cliffs form natural steps into the bay and just inside there,' she pointed again, 'is a beautiful little freshwater waterfall, perfect for showering off the sea salt.'

'You are welcome to join me. And to be frank, you both stink of bygone bacchanals and rotting floaters, just like that revolting room at the inn. I’ve brought some fresh clothes for you too, over there.' She pointed at two neatly folded stacks; one pale blue and one black.

Following a hunch, Geralt went over to the black stack and took a look. The fine linen shirt seemed a little flimsy and without front-fastenings, but the jacquard trousers were looking sturdy enough if a bit soft and shiny for Geralt’s tastes. He supposed it would do, the warm weather didn’t encourage a lot of layers anyway.

Yennefer was already halfway down the cliffs, following a natural-looking pathway leading from the stone set plateau in front of the bungalow. Istredd followed closely after. Yennefer was leaving her garments behind as she went, revealing more and more skin with each elegant step towards the sea. She was mesmerizing to watch, with her carefree soul and womanly graces on display. Istredd was getting out of his tattered garbs too, going about it much less elegantly and hopping a bit to get out of his trousers.

Geralt smiled to himself and opted to undress at the patio, sorting the gear he wanted to keep from the garments too soiled and torn to save.

  


\- - -

  


As the Witcher approached the sea, wearing neither swords nor clothes, he felt their combined gazes touch upon him: Istredd’s sharply judging the competition and Yennefer’s admiring and smiling.

The Witcher didn’t hurry his steps for it, layers of grime and countless scars be damned. Instead, he used his sharpened eyesight to find a safe place to dive in, head first. 

He was pleased he didn’t make any noticeable splash as he shot into the water like an arrow, but he was simultaneously irritated by worrying over it. It wasn’t like what he thought of himself would make much difference. Yen had her eyes at her price and Geralt was content to go along. This was the wage he would pay for spending more precious moments with her and also for getting into the stupid cockfight with Istredd in the first place. 

Whether Istredd had guessed her game yet, Geralt didn’t know, but the sorcerer sure wasn’t stupid in other things.

  


\- - -

  


'Do you want a backrub, Geralt?'

'Sure. You think I need it?'

'I think you always need more caresses, Witcher, and I think your lifestyle ensures that very few are offered freely.' She said this matter-of-factly as she started scrubbing his shoulders with a natural sponge that she, amazingly, had picked up from the seabed. The seawater felt refreshing and the sun was shining on them from up high, making small droplets glitter against the contrast of glowing and shadowed flesh.

Istredd took a little swim around the bay before returning. He had found another sponge and without comment, he started slowly washing Yennefer’s shapely back, as she was scrubbing Geralt’s broad biceps. Istredd was on board all right.

Istredd’s body was hard and lean, nothing special, but well kept for a ~40-year-old. Geralt had no problem imagining fitting to him physically. Mentally it was another case, with their unbelievable luscious surroundings here, to the backdrop of their recent bout with fear, heartbreak, and undead gore; all-in-all adding an unreal tint to the moment. Geralt felt almost drugged, yet he hadn’t drunk or eaten anything offered by Yennefer yet.

As Yennefer released his arm, Geralt reached out to touch Istredd’s shoulder. The Witcher tugged the sorcerer against him as a suggestion, no force behind it. Yet Istredd turned around willingly, eyes sharp and knowing as they embraced, melting together in a deep and purging kiss. The broad-chested Witcher almost enveloped the rangy sorcerer, but Istredd wasn’t covering from him, not in the least. The sorcerer stood tall, leaning in and clasping hard without backing off an inch and the Witcher’s medallion shivered between them. The two of them were equal in this too, as they had been in everything else.

'My beautiful men.' Yen purred and embraced them both.

  


\- - -

  


The two kestrels soared higher and higher up above, buoyed by the sun and her thermal winds.


End file.
